fragmentation
by doroniasobi
Summary: when someone you love becomes a memory, the memory becomes a treasure. it takes a while after Touya Kouyo's death for Akira to realize that this is true. — Touya, and remembering
1. i

**fragmentation;**

* * *

><p>01.<p>

Touya Kouyo dies on a fine spring morning with his hands folded and the usual goban sitting no more than a few feet away from him. The atmosphere isn't dank though, Touya thinks; it feels like every other morning. His father is sleeping. Just sleeping, that's all. And he says so, when the interviewers surround him with microphones and cameras. "It doesn't feel like he's gone," he admits amidst the noise, the questions, and he watches the small red light on the camera blink before the camera switches off completely.

His mother's face is pale when it's all over, and Akira is careful with her when he leads her back into the house. When he does, she looks too thin and her shoulder blades look too sharp and her bones feel too fragile, too light and too old. The strength she uses to grip his hand doesn't feel real, feels like if he were to bump her wrist, the bone would shatter completely under his mere touch. He lets her rest under the dim light her husband's room and Akira takes notice, suddenly, of how old she looks, how old she must feel in that moment.

Then she begins to cry, a broken sob echoing in the empty room. Akira closes his eyes and listens to his mother's quiet sobbing, hands folded behind his back politely, wondering what exactly his father would do in this type of situation.

It takes a while for him to remember. Akira breathes in sharply and covers his mouth with his left hand. It hadn't just been another spring morning. Father had not been sleeping. Touya Kouyo is gone.

Akira excuses himself from the room quickly and gasps, head spinning. Father is gone. The words ring still so foreign in his ears, and still, Akira cannot bring himself to cry.

The night is quiet and sullen at the Touya household, and the sound of Go stones clacking against wood resounds according to.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued.<em>


	2. ii

**fragmentation;**

* * *

><p>02.<p>

Shindou comes over the next week. Akira is there to open the door when the familiar tapping noise sounds, and he finds Shindou standing awkwardly on his doorstep, a small fruit basket in his hand.

"Hey," Shindou says. His gaze wanders.

"Hey," Akira says back. His voice is raspy, and he clears his throat. "Hey," he tries again, sounding too normal. He holds the door open wider. Shindou steps in gratefully and presses the handle of the basket into Akira's hand.

"Here," he says, fumbling with his fingers. "I brought... this. I hoped..." he trails off awkwardly.

Akira smiles wryly. Shindou's trying, he can tell. That's enough for him.

"Want to play a game?"

Shindou looks up, slightly startled. "I, uh, your mom—"

"She won't mind," Akira promises. "Mother isn't home right now. She'll be back in a few hours, but she's familiar with you."

"Oh," Shindou says. "Okay." He pauses. "I—I know how it feels, Touya."

Akira doesn't understand. "Feel?" he repeats.

"To... lose someone. Something. Something important."

"You do?"

Shindou looks at him, and Akira is surprised by the seriousness he sees in his eyes. "I do," he says again. "I know."

Akira stares back at him for a long time and chuckles bitterly, walking into the living room. Shindou follows him, his steps slow and hesitant behind him. Akira takes his father's goban out and sets it in front of him, running three fingers across its smooth surface.

Shindou crouches down next to him. "Touya," he tries to say again.

"I don't know, Shindou," Akira interrupts him. "You might know, but I don't. I haven't lost anything. Not yet." His voice cracks towards the end of his sentence and he covers his mouth, half-trembling, half-embarrassed. "I'm sorry," he stammers, "I—"

"Touya."

Shindou's voice is calm, soothing, firm. Akira feels battered, shaken, and broken. And that's probably why, when Akira falls, when Akira collapses all together, loses all of what's left to put him together, crumples into a ball like a lost child, Shindou is right there, a sturdy arm around his shoulders and a low voice to tell him that everything will be all right, and that Shindou will be there, until Akira is ready to come back.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued.<em>


	3. iii

**fragmentation;**

* * *

><p>03.<p>

"My father," Akira begins, clearing his throat, "was a... man of dignity."

The funeral is held on a cloudy day about two weeks later. Akira is wearing his best black suit, the one he's only ever worn once to a game. His mother watches him from where he stands, a handkerchief neatly folded in her lap and her eyes glimmering with a small sense of pride. Akira isn't prepared, for any of the words that are supposed to be coming out of his mouth.

"He loved Go," Akira continues, reaching for his tie and loosening it. Had it been that tight that morning? What in the world is he saying? "He loved playing it, watching it on television, and associated himself with anything to do with it. He was very involved in its matters." He clears his throat once more. "I guess some of the public called him... a maniac."

There are some chuckles in the audience. Akira looks up and scans the crowd. Ogata-san looks the same, dressed in a similar style of black suit as he. His eyes are downcast, though, and Akira takes the bit of time he has to briefly wonder what he's thinking about. Kuwabara-sensei is there too, his head bowed in respect, his hairless head visible to everyone around him.

"He..." he trails off. What more was there to say? His father was wonderful, and his life had revolved solely around his family and his love for the game of Go. "He loved my mother," he adds lamely. From the corner of his eye, he can see his mother smile, a little bit. "He loved her very much."

"He was... he is my hero." He smiles fondly to himself. "My father... my father was a person, despite his strict, outward appearance, cared more than anyone could imagine. He was both a person who kept to himself and a person who shared himself with his peers. He was... a person that nobody could have disliked, even for a little while."

Shindou is in the crowd, too. Akira only sees him when he looks up that one last time, his blonde bangs contrasting the dull colours of the day. Shindou looks up at him, and suddenly, Akira loses his words. A drop of rainwater hits his forehead.

"I loved him," he whispers, head dropping, bangs covering his eyes, his face. "I loved him. I loved my father. I loved him too much to let him go and I wish every day I could go back in time and do something different to change his fate, let him know that I appreciated every single bit of him in the world, that I could thank him for bringing me up and—"

Akira goes on and on and on, his eyes squeezed shut, until his ramblings melt into the background noise and he no longer knows what he's saying. It isn't until his mother is next to him, stroking his arm, telling him to calm down, moving him forward, that he realizes that wet tears are streaming down his cheeks.

He isn't alone; the sky cries with him.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued.<em>


	4. iv

**fragmentation;**

* * *

><p>04.<p>

"You did good up there," Ogata-san tells him after.

"Did I," Akira replies, lips quirking into a half-smile, eyes still pink. "I did something up there and I'm not too sure I would call it good."

Ogata-san smirks, pulls out a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and a lighter with it. "No," he says. "You did good." He looks at Akira.

"What is it?"

Ogata-san chuckles and lights his cigarette. "No, it's nothing," he replies. "You've grown, Akira-kun. Your father..." Ogata-san shoots a glance at Akira before continuing, "...your father would be very, very proud."

Akira smiles. "I'm glad you think so," he says simply.

They leave it at that.

* * *

><p><em>to be continued.<em>


	5. v

**fragmentation;**

* * *

><p>05.<p>

"I've lost," Shindou says, his fan clenched tightly in his hand. "Thank you for the game."

"Thank you," Akira says back.

"I lost," Shindou wails, "again!"

"You shouldn't have started that battle up here," Akira says, pointing. "You focused all of your plays there and didn't see what I was doing down here. You should have been more careful. I had more territory there." He frowns.

Shindou groans and flops to the side, grumbling to himself. "I'll win next time!" he promises. "I'll win next time and we'll bet and I'll choke 3000 yen out of you, I will!"

"I wouldn't mind giving 3000 yen to you if you actually decided to start using it wisely, Shindou."

"I do use it wisely!" Shindou defends. "Ramen is a necessity in my life. One day you'll learn to appreciate that."

"Thank you," Akira says suddenly.

Shindou stares at him. "What?"

"And I'm sorry."

"...Touya, I know I'm kind of dumb, but I really don't know what you're talking about."

"For... the other day."

Shindou thinks about it. "Oh," he says. Then he smiles, just a little bit. Akira watches him clench his fan tighter. "No problem," he says, waving his hand in the air. "I've already forgotten about that."

Akira hesitates. "Your loss," he starts, wondering what to say and how to say it—would you like to talk about it? What happened? There are a lot of things Akira wants to know, a lot of things he wants to know; is afraid to find out, but if he doesn't ask, he knows Shindou will never say.

But Shindou waves it off. "That's... a long story," he says. He's quiet for a bit. Akira's eyebrows crease.

"Shindou?"

"Touya," he says, and Akira blinks, startled.

"Yes?"

"Welcome back."

He doesn't know if it's the effect the words have on him when Shindou says it, doesn't really know whether it's the atmospheric shine in the air or the timing that reminds Akira of the times his father had scolded him, of the times Touya Kouyo had held his hand and walked with him to the park and had lifted him up with nothing but the feeling of pride on his shoulders.

And Touya Kouyo is gone, but Akira feels less helpless, less unable.

His eyes water. "Thank you," he says.

He means it.

* * *

><p><em>owari.<em>


	6. coda

**fragmentation;**

* * *

><p>5 (point five).<p>

"Hey, Akira?"

"Hm?"

"You asked about it, right?"

Akira doesn't pretend he doesn't know what Shindou speaks of. "Yes."

Shindou places another Go stone on the goban. It makes a small clacking noise, and Akira watches as Shindou clenches the fan in his hands, turns it over, and places it on the floor, next to him.

"I had a very, very dear friend," he begins.

Akira closes his eyes, runs his fingers over his knuckles. Then he listens.

* * *

><p><em>2012.01.23<br>_


End file.
